


hush little baby (don't say a word)

by wolfstarheart



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dad!Tony, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark, Teen Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark gives him that hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-24 01:12:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12001824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfstarheart/pseuds/wolfstarheart
Summary: Peter can't sleep, so naturally, Tony has to intervene.(AKA Tony is a good dad, and what do you mean, he's not actually Peter's father?)





	hush little baby (don't say a word)

Peter is, no matter what people say, a pretty tough kid. Physically, yeah, he has this little thing called super-strength that comes in handy when he happens to be mauled by aliens or robots or just your run-of-the-mill petty thieves. But emotionally? He'd like to think he's strong enough in that respect too, considering the fact that he saw his Uncle die as a kid and suffered through years of idiots like Flash mocking him for everything from his skinny stature to the artists on his Spotify, and even saying that out loud (or well, in his head) makes him realize that he probably, almost definitely, needs to go to therapy.

So, anyway, considering the fact that he's held up all these years, it really only should've been a matter of time before it all caught up to him. It's just awfully inconvenient that this has to happen right when he has about a billion projects to work on for school, which just happens to coincide with an upsurge in evil robots trying to blow up New York. Peter would complain, except he's never been a particularly lucky guy, has he? 

So he starts patrolling later and later. The nights seem to get longer, too: probably because he's constantly fighting the urge to pass out, but there's nothing coffee can't fix, right? He paces the streets of the city, eyes moving from building to building in an attempt to scope out whatever the newest attack is. Some nights are blissfully peaceful, and once the sun begins to rise Peter will scurry back home and catch maybe thirty minutes of sleep, if he's lucky, before his phone alarm will go off and he'll have to get up and get ready for school. On the bad nights, there are enemies to take down and, later, injuries to cover up with a remarkable amount of concealer so Aunt May doesn't suspect a thing. (Just because she knows he's Spiderman doesn't mean she knows that he's about an inch from death every time he fights somebody).

Ned, for his part, keeps shooting him concerned glances whenever he thinks Peter can't see. "How's being a superhero treating you?" he asks once, when they're in one of the school labs working on a virtual reality video game that they try and pass off as something actually educational whenever the teacher walks by. Peter glares at him and motions for him to lower his voice, even though the music currently blaring out of Flash's speakers is enough to drown his question out. 

"It's okay," Peter manages, once he's sure that nobody's listening in. 

Ned raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't get the chance to interrogate him further because something manages to mildly electrocute the two of them and they spend the rest of the lesson trying to fix their malfunctioning device. If Peter's relieved that he doesn't actually have to talk about stuff, well-- that's just an added bonus.

MJ, to her credit, comes the closest to figuring out that something's wrong. It's probably because she lacks any semblance of what Aunt May calls tact. "You look like absolute  _shit_ , Parker," she comments one day when the three of them are having lunch. She waves her fork in the direction of his eyebags (and even with all his experience with makeup, he still manages to look like a goddamn raccoon, which is always a good look, isn't it?). "Do you even sleep?"

Peter almost considers telling her, then. It would be so easy. All he'd have to do is shake his head-- except what would happen next? It's hardly like MJ or Ned, despite being the most amazing friends he could ever ask for, could physically sit with him while he sleeps and make the nightmares go away. If anything, they'd probably make him go talk to the school counselor, and despite the fact that he is well aware that he probably  _does_ actually need to talk to somebody, he doesn't want it to be Mrs Heathers, whose go-to advice is to go vegan or something. 

So, instead, he rolls his eyes at her and lets out a little laugh. "'Course I do. Believe me, Aunt May keeps asking me when I'm  _not_ sleeping." And, to his surprise, that seems to work, because MJ shrugs at him and then goes back to her salad. 

So far, so good. Of course, he hadn't counted on Tony Stark being the one to shatter his facade. 

He's out on patrol again (it's something like midnight on a Tuesday or a Wednesday because the days are starting to blur together in a haze of exhaustion and he really doesn't have the energy to expend on figuring out what the date is) when the Iron Man suit descends next to him so stealthily that he practically jumps a foot out of his suit. "When did that thing get so quiet?" is all he can muster up the breath to say, raising an eyebrow at the faceplate. 

It folds back to reveal a very displeased-looking Tony Stark. "I could explain that, except that's what you want, isn't it? A distraction? Oh, but I know how you kids work, and trust me, you are  _not_ getting out of this conversation."

Peter blinks, and, Jesus, is he seeing double now? "I have no idea what conversation you're talking about, Mr Stark," he says, raising both eyebrows quizzically with every atom of confidence he has within him. Technically, it's not even like he's doing something wrong-- he follows safety protocols and updates Happy on the particularly dangerous encounters and doesn't even pull that many reckless stunts, considering everything-- but something about Iron Man standing next to him with his arms folded across what looks like a very expensive suit makes him feel guilty anyway. 

Tony narrows those all-seeing hazel eyes at him. "The conversation about you actually sleeping once in awhile. Or have you forgotten that collapsing in the middle of a fight isn't exactly the best way you could be serving your city?"

Peter flinches back, and  _shit_. Right. Excuse mode on. He can do this. "'Course I've been sleeping, Mr Stark," he says, and he forces a cheery smile to his face. "I'm not stupid, remember?"

"I'm well aware that you're a genius, Parker," Tony replies just as quickly, and lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Enough with the deflection, though. The suit does this helpful little thing where it updates me on your vitals, you know, in case of emergencies. Coincidentally, I got an update this morning informing me that you're in critical need of some rest. Funny that, eh?" 

And, damn it, the suit. He should've figured that out. He glares down at the material ( _traitor_ ), and with a sigh of his own, tugs off the mask and runs a hand that may or may not be shaking slightly through his hair. "You got me there," he says dully. 

Tony's eyes soften, and he uncrosses his hands and steps a little closer to Peter. He can feel the older man's gaze on his undereye circles and pale skin and clammy forehead, and he feels exposed in a way he never has before. A flicker of sympathy seems to flash over his face for a second before it's replaced with smooth confidence. "Right, Parker, you're coming with me," he says, and before he has a chance to protest, he's back in the suit and is flying him over all the way to Avengers Tower. Peter lets his eyes roam over the skyline of New York City with only a vague aura of disinterest-- sure, it's beautiful, but he's seen it enough times to not gasp like an awestruck kid anymore-- and almost doesn't notice when they alight in the balcony of one of the upper floors of the tower. Tony waves his hand at the glass doors separating them from the darkened room inside, and they slide open just as the lights inside flicker on. 

Peter looks around with significantly more interest. He remembers it from before as being opulently decorated, expensive art everywhere, but now it's far more minimalistic. There's a couch and a TV and maybe a  _couple_ of Pollocks, but otherwise it's what Peter decides is a pretty bare living room. "Thought you moved the headquarters," he comments. 

Tony steps out of the suit and watches distantly as the metal pieces fly out of the balcony to God-knows-where. "We did," he mutters. "We still own it, though, until we find a buyer. I should say if, because turns out having a skyscraper in the heart of the city is awfully useful in situations like this." 

"I'm a situation now, am I?" Peter blurts out before he can stop himself, and he winces when Tony turns to look at him. To his surprise, however, he doesn't look mad. If he didn't know better, actually, he'd say that Tony seems almost... hurt. 

But that'd be crazy, right? "The fact that you're not sleeping and haven't been for far too long is a situation, Peter, and one that does actually need to be fixed," Tony says, voice suddenly sounding tired. A pinch of guilt stabs Peter's insides before he pushes it away (it's not like he  _forced_ Tony to act all concerned for his health, after all). "So, talk to me, Peter. What's been going on?" 

And he could lie, but there's something about the way he looks at Peter now, with that expression that's just begging him to let go of his apprehension and confide in him, that makes him want to confess everything that's been happening in the last month or so. The bullying at school that never really stopped. The way he wants to throw up all the time. How he'll take any chance he has at getting blackout drunk at parties because it's a welcome distraction from everything that hurts-- all the memories, of Uncle Ben and being trapped under all that debris and  _come on Spiderman_ \-- But all he manages to say, in the end, is, "I've been having nightmares." 

And Tony is looking at him like he just broke his heart. "Oh, Peter," he says, and any trace of annoyance he might've displayed when he first cornered Peter back in Queens is gone, replaced with this odd mixture of understanding-sympathy-pity that makes him feel strangely vulnerable. "You could've told me."

"I thought they would go away," Peter admits, frowning at the floor. "But I wake up  _screaming_ , and it scared Aunt May the first time, so--"

"--So you decided you'd just  _stop sleeping altogether_?" Tony cuts in, raising his eyebrows at Peter, and when he puts it that way-- 

"It wasn't one of my best plans, I'll give you that," Peter says dully. (God, he's tired.) "I dunno. I mean, I do sleep sometimes, you know. Like an hour at most every now and again, but seriously, it's not like sleep deprivation isn't a teenage right of passage. I'm  _fine_. Honest." 

Tony looks him up and down again. "Sure you are, kiddo." He begins pacing across the length of the hall, the sound of his shoes the only thing that breaks the silence of the tower, and Peter watches him walk as his eyes cloud over with sleepiness. No, he can't-- he can't let go, and so he blinks several times just to make sure that he's awake and conscious because it really would _not_ be a good look if he just keeled over and passed out on Tony's very expensive hardwood floors. "I could give you some sort of medication, but no, with your heightened metabolism I doubt it would work at all. Seriously, Peter, you should've come to me sooner, I could've had a pill that would work for you synthesized  _weeks_ ago, but-- forget it. You're stay here tonight," he says decisively, and Peter gapes. 

"Aunt May will worry," is all he manages, eyes wide. "And-- I have to get back to patrolling. God, I just disappeared, what if something's happened and somebody's hurt--"

And then Tony's slinging an arm around his shoulder and gripping him almost too tightly, but the grip is grounding and warm and steady even as his lungs heave. "Breathe, Pete, breathe," he says, voice echoing within Peter's mind, but slowly, ever so slowly, he comes back. He draws in one last shuddering breath before he's closing his eyes and trying to shrug Tony off. 

"God, I'm sorry, Mr Stark," Peter mumbles, but the man isn't letting  _go_ , and that wouldn't be a problem except his suit is wonderfully soft and it would be so easy to just doze off right there, "I'm sorry for freaking out on you. Really. You don't have to worry about me, I'll be okay, it's just-- just a temporary hiccup, right?"

Tony looks down at him and bites his lip, and it strikes Peter that this is new territory for the both of them. "Please, kid, that's Tony to you. Or 'amazing genius and wonderful mentor', either will do. Anyway, you don't get to tell me that this is nothing to worry about-- Christ, you've just had a minor anxiety attack and  _you're_ the one telling me that everything's gonna be okay? And I thought I was the one with issues," he says, and he might be rambling a bit but it does help slow Peter's still racing heart. "Anyway. Enough about me. So here's the thing, Peter. I'm going to cover for you just this once and tell your Aunt that you're skipping school tomorrow to deliver a presentation on, um, let's say renewable energy, to my board.  _Just this once_ , mind you, because I'm in no way a responsible adult but I'm still not gonna be an accomplice to your web of lies and deceit, no pun intended." They've made their way over to the couch now, and Peter sinks into it and can't help but let out a soft whimper, because it's a hundred times more comfortable than his own bed and oh, if it wasn't for the alarms ringing loudly in his mind, he'd already be asleep by now. "So that frees up a bit of time for you to get this stuff off your chest, alright?"

Peter nods, even though about half of that flew right into one ear and out the other. "Thank you, amazing genius and wonderful mentor."

It's a lame joke, but Tony cracks a smile at that, and nudges Peter with one shoulder. "At least you've still got your idiotic sense of humor, so that's a relief," he says dryly, and then rearranges his features into a more serious expression once again. "So, Petey-boy. The nightmares." 

And he could make this difficult for the both of them, except he really does  _not_ have the energy for that, so. "I always had 'em, ever since my parents died," Peter begins, and finds out that tired as he is, he's still awake enough to be embarrassed at the way his voice shakes as he talks. "But-- after, you know, that night, with Toomes and me almost being buried alive under the remnants of the building-- I guess it kinda got worse. Like, a lot worse. And if I'm screaming to the point where my throat's raw and I have to spend half an hour throwing up after I wake up after only a couple hours of sleeping, well, I figured it wasn't worth the effort."

Tony frowns. "God, Peter, why didn't you talk to anyone about it?"

He shrugs. "Didn't. Didn't wanna be a burden. And besides, Ned and MJ and my Aunt... they don't exactly know or understand what being a superhero really is like." 

"I do, though. You could've told me," he repeats. 

Peter lets out a long, bone-deep yawn. "You're busy. Got bigger things to worry about than a kid who can't sleep."

And it looks like something is breaking behind Tony's eyes, but then he can't see them because he's being pressed into a hug that would be awkward if it wasn't so soothing. He stays in Tony's embrace for far longer than is probably necessary, but it's been so long since he's been held like this by  _anybody_ , and it's, it's nice, almost. Not that he'd ever admit that. When Tony finally pulls away, Peter doesn't even have it in him to be ashamed of the little whine of complaint that he lets out once the warmth of Tony's body gives way to the chill of the wintry night. "Peter," says Tony, voice deadly serious, "I'm never too busy for you. Not when you're not doing okay. And, hell, even if you are. That's how this works: I'm here for you, no matter how motherfucking cheesy that sounds, alright?" 

Peter gives him a half-smile. "Thank you, Tony." 

"You know," he presses on, like he hadn't just heard Peter, "I used to-- I still have nightmares too. 'Course, mine are about the wormhole, and Afghanistan, and a whole host of other things that I'm probably not going to be getting into until you're quite a bit older, and even then-- I don't like to talk about it. But I don't want you to do what I did," he finishes, running a hand through his hair. 

"What's that?"

"Oh, just designing a suit that'd fly into my bedroom every time I had a particularly bad dream," Tony says airily, waving a hand in the air like that's normal. "Nearly gave Pepper a heart attack. Either way, moral of the story is that asking for help is a helluva better solution than jeopardizing your health or frightening your girlfriend to death. Yeah?"

"Gotcha," Peter mumbles, and it's a struggle to keep his eyes open now. Tony shuffles over to the side, leaving just enough room for Peter to spread himself out on the couch, and he squints blearily at what is now just a shadow of a man. "Don't. Don't leave me. Please?"

Tony's very conspicuously silent for a moment, and Peter's starting to think that he's overstepped, but then he sighs and gives him a thumbs-up. "Of course not," he says, and Peter would've teased him about just how tender he sounded in that moment if he wasn't already asleep. 

 

Peter wakes up and panics for a second, because he's somewhere that's definitely  _not_ his bedroom (has he been kidnapped or something? Surely he'd remember that, but these days it's hard to be sure). 

But then the events of last night come into focus, and he pieces together what happened. He'd flush from embarrassment at just how pitiful he must've sounded then, except he's surprisingly clear-headed from a solid fourteen hours of sleep, according to the clock on the wall above the TV, and he can't bring himself to complain about it just yet. He lets out a slow, trembling breath. God, waking up not shouting or crying is something he hasn't experienced in what must've been  _months_. 

He hears the sound of the door handle being turned, and instinctively he buries himself deeper within the soft comforter that definitely was  _not_ there when he'd fallen asleep. A pair of callused hands pry the blanket off him, though, and he has to blink a couple of times before the slightly worried-looking face of Tony Stark comes into focus. "Oh. Good morning, Mr Sta-- Tony."

Tony grins at him. "More like good afternoon, kiddo. I could even say good evening if I was being an asshole, which, for once, I'm trying not to be." He flops down on the couch beside him, and Peter, with a little grumble, pulls up his legs so Tony can have a bit more space. "Slept alright?"

"Somehow, yeah," Peter says, after a moment of consideration. "Didn't I ever wake up?" 

"No," says Tony decisively. "I was here all night. Only left an hour ago to see Pepper. Trust me, if you were having a nightmare, I would've noticed."

A slow smile spreads across Peter's face despite himself. "You really did stay?" he asks, sitting up so he can get a proper look at Tony, who's quite obviously avoiding his eyes. 

"Well-- if you  _ever_ let the media or, God forbid, Rogers know about this, I'll deny it," he mumbles, but Tony's smiling too. And this is almost nice, Peter decides. This: Tony's eyes warm as he turns on the TV and hands Peter a glass of orange juice seemingly out of nowhere. The way he can breathe easy, knowing that he's rested and, at least for the time being, not about to succumb to his fears. How nobody's ever cared about him quite like this. ( _Like a father_ , supplies the voice in Peter's head that he orders to shut up, to no avail). 

And when Peter gets home and finds a box of what he assumes are modified sleeping pills, along with a Post-It bearing Tony's initials, as well as a number that's apparently a therapist's, and hey, maybe he'll even give it a call, hmm?-- yeah, he thinks he's finally ready to lean on other people. Even if 'other people' means Tony-freaking-Stark.

Hey, he's never claimed his life was anything close to normal, so why start now?

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this! i love peter and tony's dynamic in homecoming so much tbh. if u too wanna scream about that you can hit me up on tumblr @ shellheadtony! :)


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